Flannel
by WaitingForNoExit
Summary: Dean has a cold, so Sam decides to take care of him. After all, sex is the best cure for illness. Wincest. Sick!Dean.


Dean was ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure that the reason he was constantly getting sick was because Hell had completely destroyed his immune system. He was fine during the summer months, and fall, and usually spring, but winter rolled around and he dissolved into a miserable coughing mess, black bags appearing under his green eyes and his temperature going through the roof.

Today was one such day, the oldest Winchester curled up underneath a good few layers, _Dr. Sexy MD_ playing on the television and Dean half-asleep, fighting to stay awake. He was barely dressed, only one of his little brother's flannel shirts pulled around his torso, Dean feeling like a girlfriend and decidedly gay but happy nonetheless. Sam was off somewhere, and although the scent of his brother barely clung to the shirt, Dean found it comforting in a totally non-homosexual way.

"Doctor, we have to perform that emergency spine transplant before it's too late. We have no other choice!"

Dean lifted his head a little, trying to focus on the television as Dr. Piccolo stared up at Dr. Sexy, the tension between them almost palpable. Dr. Sexy wiped at his brow with a glove-covered hand and Dean's eyes widened; it was no secret he had a giant mancrush on Dr. Sexy, and it was difficult to ignore it when the other man had a desperate-yet-resolved-and-very-much-in-control look on his face.

"We can't operate on that child," Dr. Sexy said in his voice that made Dean melt, his eyes focused on the girl in front of him. There was a long pause and Dean leaned forward a bit, obviously sucked into the show, coughing dryly before forcing it back in order to hear Dr. Sexy speak.

"Why not?"

Another long, dramatic pause and then Dr. Sexy spoke, voice barely more than a tense, angsty whisper. "We can't operate on that child because… he's my son."

"Oh my god," Dean whispered to the empty room, huddling over closer in Sam's flannel as it cut to commercial.

"Oh my god what?"

Dean barely looked up as Sam pushed into the room, the younger man giving his brother a look before walking over, peeling the blankets back off Dean and eyeing him for a moment before grinning. "You're wearing my shirt."

Dean shrugged, pulling the comfortable flannel around himself further and curling up on the bed, giving his brother the best puppy dog eyes he could manage. "It's comfortable."

"You look like a little girl," Sam said, smiling a bit before flopping down on the bed beside Dean, effectively blocking his view of the television, the very obvious sounds of sex emitting from the speakers.

Dean blinked slowly, too tired to move, and instead he turned his gaze on his little brother, mouth twisting up in a half-smirk. "What do you want? I'll get you sick, too, Sammy."

"I'm pretty sure that's not going to happen, Dean; you have the immune system of an eighty year old cancer patient with AIDS."

Frowning, Dean shrugged, cocooning himself in the covers further and ignoring his brother. "I was trying to get you to get out of the bed. You're too close. Personal space, Sam."

Sam shrugged, staying where he was and rolling over slightly, grabbing the generic gas station bag he had brought back and going through it, finding a bottle of blue Gatorade and smiling at his brother, scooting closer and holding it out. "Here."

Dean blinked, taking it gratefully and curling closer to Sam out of instinct; he couldn't remember how many times they had done this as children, only with Dean taking care of Sam rather than going about it this way. Before Dean could react, Sam had an arm around his waist, tugging him closer and burying his face against Dean's hair, humming a few bars of a lullaby that Dean vaguely recognized but couldn't pinpoint. He leaned against Sam further, the cold bottle of Gatorade clutched between them as he shook his head, smiling a bit. "What are you doing?"

"Playing the older brother for once," Sam murmured, squeezing Dean and pressing his lips to the smaller man's temple gently, making sure they were both buried under the covers as he fiddled with one of the buttons on the shirt Dean was wearing. "You took care of me enough."

Sam was cold, and he smelled like snow, and Dean curled closer to him, face finding the comfortable niche of his little brother's neck before he spoke, Sam shifting slightly at the feeling of hot breath against his skin. "You smell like the cold, Sammy."

"It's snowing out." Sam slid a leg along one of Dean's bare ones, sock-clad toes brushing over his brother's foot before he pressed his mouth to Dean's ear, the movement intimate and yet completely normal, it seemed; Dean wasn't surprised by it, and Sam definitely wasn't either. "You picked a shitty day to be sick, Dean."

"I don't think I would've been out there building snowmen with you anyway," Dean muttered, letting Sam cradle him; it was just Sammy. He was the last person to admit that he needed this, but he did. He needed Sam. He needed a day, just one, where he could recuperate. And hell, if that meant curling up in bed with Sam, then he was more than willing to get gay with his little brother.

Sam plucked at the top button on the flannel shirt until it came undone, pulling it apart and letting rough fingers run over Dean's collarbone, pausing slightly at the hollow of his neck before he spoke, voice low and dangerously intimate against Dean's ear. "I'm cold, Dean, and you're sick… I think we're both pretty miserable right now."

Dean almost opened his mouth to correct his brother; sick or not, sniffling and achy and feverish or healthy as anything… he felt good. Something about Sam just… pushed him into feel good territory, and for five fucking seconds he could be _happy_ with his lot in life. Shivers went down his spine, though, and he twisted the hand that wasn't currently holding the blue Gatorade in Sam's shirt, pursing his lips and ghosting them across Sam's neck lightly; this was evolving from a simple comfort cuddle into something a hell of a lot more, and as Dr. Sexy began making very obvious mid-coitus noises on the television, Dean managed to pull away from Sam's neck, pulling up a bit and pressing his forehead to Sam's.

They stared at each other for a few moments and then Sam leaned in, the tilt of his head indicating what he was about to do better than any words would have. Dean met him halfway, ignoring the vague tickle in his throat, and their lips pressed together a bit awkwardly; neither of the Winchesters exactly had experience kissing their brother. Sam took the reins after a moment, dipping his tongue past Dean's lips, and Dean, who was far more accustomed to following than leading, didn't protest, deepening the kiss slightly and bringing a leg up, rubbing his knee against Sam's crotch lightly, teasing.

This had gone from cuddly to near-complete incest in the space of five seconds, and Sam broke the kiss, looking at Dean before biting at his lower lip, tugging at it gently and staring at his brother for a long moment before murmuring, "Dean, I think we're going to fuck."

"I think you're stupid for having to point that out," Dean said, sitting up shakily and running a hand up Sam's shirt-covered chest, arching an eyebrow cautiously. He pouted, looking at his brother and giving him another pathetic puppy look. "Just don't be too rough with me, Sammy. It's my first time."

"Oh, shut up, you're not some blushing bride about to be deflowered." Sam sat up, running a hand back through his brother's hair and pulling him into another rough kiss, manhandling him as he started to pull the flannel shirt off. Dean kissed back, and immediately wished he had waited until he wasn't drowning in mucus to do this; his head was on fucking _fire_ now that he was deprived of oxygen, and immediately after Sam pulled away, Dean curled over, coughing like he had just taken a bad hit.

Sam watched him for a few moments before rubbing his back cautiously, frowning. "Dude, are you going to be able to handle it without me having to rush you to the ER afterwards?"

"I don't care if I friggin' die with your dick up my ass," Dean muttered, pointing at Sam. "We're not going to the hospital. Do you know how awkward that would be? 'Oh, hi, my brother slipped into a cold-induced coma after we finished having incestuous gay sex while hunting a pair of rogue succubus. Can you fix him?' I'm not playing that, Sammy."

Sam reached over, squeezing Dean's face and pulling him into a kiss, tongue dragging over Dean's lower lip gently. "All right. I guess I can give you that much dignity, because you aren't going to have any once I'm done with you." Sam practically ripped the flannel off Dean's back, biting at his brother's neck and smirking against the skin there slightly.

"Sam, seriously," Dean murmured, nuzzling against his brother and wrapping a hand in his long brown hair. "If you fuck me up tonight, this will be a onetime thing. I don't feel well."

Sam leaned in, kissing him lightly and giving him a look. "Okay, seriously, I don't know what people have been telling you, but my cock isn't going to tear you in half, Dean. I'm not like an elephant or something."

Dean rolled his eyes, leaning down and groping his little brother before sliding forward slightly, kissing him gently. "I'm not saying you're gonna whip out this monster cock and make me bleed, but I'm sick, so I'd like it not to be some horribly scarring experience. Plus I haven't exactly made a career out of sticking things in my ass."

Sam smiled slightly, kissing back and grinding his hips forward against Dean's hand, fingers, eyeing Dean hungrily. "I'll be gentle," he teased, dropping his hands to the elastic waistband of his brother's boxers, wincing slightly as Dean lapsed into another coughing fit. "You're going to give me AIDS."

"I'll just p-push you over and fuck you myself if you don't take initiative," Dean wheezed out, eyes watering. "You have me all worked up now; either get g-going or let me watch the rest of my show."

Sam arched an eyebrow, pushing Dean back on the bed and pushing his brother's legs apart, climbing between them and hooking his fingers in Dean's underwear, practically tearing them off and surveying his brother before trailing a finger up Dean's half-flaccid cock, arching an eyebrow. "You're not exactly small either."

"I know, and if you don't fuck me, it will be going up your ass instead," Dean said, staring up at his little brother. "Sammy, I've been waiting years for you to finally show some sort of affection back. Don't be a cockblock."

Sam wrapped his hand around Dean's cock, jacking him off slowly and leaning over, kissing him openly on the mouth. Dean's lips curled into his signature smirk and he looped his arms around Sam's neck, pulling his little brother down on top of him, Sam nestled between Dean's legs comfortably, kissing back slowly. He worked his way down to Dean's neck, pressing his cheek against his chest; Dean was congested, and very raspy-sounding, and yet the steady rise and fall of his chest might have put Sam to sleep if they hadn't currently been on the verge of fucking.

He lifted his head, just barely, and stared at his older brother, arching an eyebrow. "We don't have lube. Are you okay to suck cock?"

Dean shrugged, pushing himself into a careful sitting position and hacking up a lung before grabbing his blue Gatorade and taking a swig, tilting his head back and gargling a bit before swallowing. "I think that was my body's way of saying it can't take a dick to the face right now."

Sam stared for a moment before nodding, standing up and walking to the bathroom before coming back with the tiny bottle of complimentary lotion, taking a sniff of it before smirking a bit. Dean's ass was going to smell like vanilla hand lotion for the next week. Cautiously, Sam doused his index and middle finger with the stuff; at least he had experience with anal from his years with Jess. He wasn't wandering blind with this, thank god.

He spread Dean's legs slightly, a finger running down the crack of Dean's ass before he pushed it in slowly, his brother making a face at the intrusion but keeping quiet, sipping at his Gatorade in an attempt to magically heal himself before Sammy brought out the big guns. Once Sam was certain Dean could handle it, he pushed a second finger in, watching his older brother's reaction.

"S'uncomfortable," Dean grit out, sneezing immediately after and squeezing his eyes closed. "Sammy, I know I'm dying of pneumonia-bronchitis-swine flu, but I'm not a girl, so quit fiddling around with my ass like it's a piece of fine china that might break and fuck me already." A coughing fit punctuated the end of that sentence and Dean slumped forward, smiling a bit as Sam kissed at his temple.

"Relax, okay? I just don't want to add bleeding ass on top of your illness." Sam pushed Dean back slowly, taking the Gatorade and setting it on the nightstand before undoing his own jeans, kicking them off as he managed to scissor slowly, trying to stretch Dean out. After a few moments, he pulled his fingers out, shimmying his own boxers off and slathering the remaining lotion onto his erection, his cock thick, hard, and definitely not what Dean had been expecting.

The oldest Winchester's green eyes tracked Sam's movements as Sammy took hold of Dean's thighs, spreading his legs and leaning in, rutting his cock against Dean's tight ass slowly, rocking his hips forward. God, did he want this. Dean gave a hiss and wrapped an arm around Sam's neck, staring up at him and licking his lips slowly, smiling his million-dollar smile and arching an eyebrow, murmuring, "So, why aren't you fucking me yet?"

Sam shook his head, guiding his cock to his brother's ass and pushing in without reservations; if Dean was going to be a little bitch about it, Sam was going to treat him like one. The look on Dean's face was enough redemption for Sam; the way his pert lips popped into an 'o' of surprise, the way his eyes widened, grew fucking huge with confusion, and the slight blush that cropped up from what Sam could only assume was pain… damn, Dean looked good with a dick in his ass.

Sam pushed Dean's legs further apart, starting up a slow, even pace, fingers digging into Dean's thighs as the older man fought for words, gasping and writhing on the bed, his breath catching in his throat as wheezing cries spilled over. Sam picked it up after a moment and soon enough, the sound of skin hitting skin filled the hotel room, Dean lurching forward and grabbing his not-so-little brother around the neck, pressing his face to Sam's cheek and murmuring something about fucking Sam into the sheets the next time they did this.

He wasn't listening though; Sam was concentrating on how fucking _hot_ Dean was around him, his brother clenching down around Sam's rock hard cock. It was an entirely different feeling from nailing a girl and Sam liked it; Dean was hot and tight and fucking _sexy_ like this, whimpering Sam's name through clenched teeth and coughing every time Sam shoved in too far.

Dean gave a loud, decidedly porn-star-like moan, clawing at Sam's back. "Do that a-again," he grit out, biting down on the lobe of Sam's ear and sending chills down the taller man's back.

Sam pushed Dean back on the bed all the way, detangling his brother's arms from around him and slamming into him as _hard_ as he fucking could, just to hear Dean scream. And scream he did, Sam thrusting into that bundle of nerves inside of him almost every time, driving Dean fucking insane, his cock throbbing with need, the vein on the underside twitching with every thrust.

Dean was a fucking screamer, and Sam loved it; his brother was too quiet under normal circumstances, and this… this complete loss of control… god, it got him going. It made him want to never stop this. Reluctantly, though, Sam wrapped a hand around Dean's cock, jerking him off with swift, short movements, a finger trailing through the clear precum at the tip of his dick before he saw Dean's stomach muscles tighten, his balls draw up closer, and his brother cum, white seed spilling out over Dean's scarred, tanned skin.

His eyes rolling back into his head, Dean fought to stay conscious; he was in the kind of horny, kind of tired, kind of _exhausted_ state of being that made it nearly impossible to stay awake through an orgasm, and he had just hit one _hell_ of a climax, feeling the cum pool on his stomach, heat slipping down his sides in tiny beads that had missed their mark.

Sam pulled his semen-covered hand away from Dean's cock, continuing to ram into his brother roughly, feeling his own orgasm closer than anything; he had to hit that point. He _had_ to. It was a minute or two before he did, Dean laying still and silent and rasping beneath him, curled over himself as he tried to keep awake. Sam came, seed spilling into his big brother as he arched his back, nails leaving marks in Dean's calloused skin before he slowly, cautiously, carefully pulled out, watching his sperm drip out of Dean's used ass with a curious look on his face before grabbing the throw off the end of the bed and using it to wipe them both clean.

Once he was sure they were sufficiently hygienic, he dropped back down on the bed, bundling Dean closer and handing him back his Gatorade, pulling the covers up over them both as Dean collapsed into a coughing fit against Sam's chest, curling up slightly and letting Sam help him get the flannel shirt back on. Slowly, after regaining his breath, Dean's lips curled into a smirk and he kissed at Sam's collarbone, a hand sliding over his rock-hard abs. "Bitch."

"Jerk," Sam shot back tiredly, admiring his brother; Dean looked goddamn good in his clothing.

Dr. Sexy started to give an impassioned speech on the television and Dean smiled, eyes flickering closed as he curled up with his Gatorade in one hand and Sam's shirt tangled in the other, feeling at home.

It was amazing what a little flannel shirt could do while one was sick.


End file.
